


To Do What Has Been Done Before

by oneinspats



Series: Needing No King [1]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, Inheritance, Kings of Ankh-Morpork, Monarchy, Patricianship, the city is definitely a character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:09:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneinspats/pseuds/oneinspats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A philosophical and historical legend of the heathen kings of Ankh-Morpork who may have existed before King Artollo. </p><p>The Guild of Historians has nothing more to say. The Patrician's Palace cannot be reached for comments at this time. </p><p>---</p><p>(A sort of thing based on my tumblr post about Vetinari and the AM monarchy: </p><p>"I really like the idea of Vetinari being distantly descended from some first, first super early kings/tribal leaders of Ankh-Morpork. Like the “heathen kings of old” before Carrot’s line sort of distant. The kings that were disposed of by Carrot’s ancestors. Of course Carrot’s ancestors missed one member of the family who ran away to like the Lancre mountains from whom Vetinari’s mum’s family descends.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Do What Has Been Done Before

There is a rule, Vimes knows. That when there falls a king the next thing men will say is Long Live the King.

 

Once, years upon years ago, there was a king. And he was a  _good leader_ so no one loved him but everyone needed him yet did not  _know_  they needed him. He ruled a small village that was steadily growing and as the village sank its teeth into swamp land and river runs and valleys the king smiled and planned for the day his family would fall.

There is a rule, this king knew. That when a kingdom becomes large and desirable there will always come a man with a bigger sword and a better army.

 

He didn’t live to see it. The bigger sword and better army. Instead, he had a daughter who was wicked with her smiles and had sharp blue eyes and black hair. She married a local lord who had too much land and too few sons. She did not love him and he did not love her. Between them there were stillborn children and a cold bed.

Eventually he declared that the royal tree was no good if there were no children. Gods had cursed this witch and his union with her. His wife, this daughter of kings, had smiled. And had waited and eventually, when the time was right, played her trick.

They had a child, a boy, who was crowned king. A steel crown for a family whose blood was as hard and as deadly as the metal. A metal that it took death to make.

The boy grew up and became a man and he was a  _good leader;_ so no one liked him the same as they did not like his mother and grandfather. But they needed him. They needed him as they needed air and land and trade and water. There was disease in the air. With famine and drought to follow. Whispers of a nameless fear and so the power of kings remained.

The man ruled the village, which was now a town as it moved its homesteads farther out and rebuilt crumbling walls. He said, Maybe we should make them of stone.  Make them so enemies will wash upon us as waves upon the shore. He smiled at his people and planned for the day his family would fall.

There is a rule, Vetinari knows. That people love to tear down what they have built up and so it goes with rulers as it does with pageantry. When the play is over, tear down the scenery and burn the costumes.

 

The man had two sons and they killed each other one night for the throne. They were drowned in the river and their bodies washed ashore, each with their hands around each other’s throats. Witches say the most powerful element upon the disc is water. It levels mountains, tears apart cities, wretches the earth in two.

There was a throne now, in the city. And a hall for it and marble paved streets and walls of stone, which were cold to touch. The swamp was drained, the river rerouted, the water controlled.

The city had a university and fiefs and was now something worth taking.

The youngest son had a daughter who claimed the throne as the only surviving relative of the family. She said, I am daughter and I am strong and I am steel and I will rule you. She was a good leader. In the beginning. But then her son killed her and he was not as good as her just as she had not been as good as her father and her father’s father.

Her son watched as the walls crumbled. The town was now a city and no longer expanding. Swamp water was seeping in and wounds were festering. He smiled and forgot that one day his family would fall.

There is a rule, Carrot knows. That when you make a new field a farmer pulls up weeds by their roots in order to ensure that no other plants will sprout.

 

The king had a mad son who, when his father died on the hunt, declared ‘well now that the fat bastard is gone I am king and there’s naught you can do about it’. He threw parties and balls and spent money lavishly. He had five separate wives and buried four of them after only three years. His fifth poisoned him.

His fifth wife married a merchant. A man whose name was foreign, from the land to the north and it made her dream of warm rivers and mountains and food that was spiced and made with strange beasts of the glades. They ruled as consorts and she had a son who was born six months after their marriage. A child with wicked cold eyes and hair that was like night. A royal babe.

The husband-merchant said, Despite the madness of his father, I feel that this boy shall be the father of the rulers of Ankh. From him shall come the greatest king the Ankh has seen.

The mother, wife of kings, said, No, not the greatest king but rather the greatest leader. I have seen too many kings to think them great.

There is water that can creep into stone and between winters and summers it can make castles crumble. There was a man named Veltrick who had a sword and an army and a legend to his name. He also had a son, and once his father had lain out the bodies of the queen and the king and their families, he struck his father and drowned him.

He said, I have done merely what others have done. Brother kills brother, son kills father. It is the way of this city. Oh this brave new kingdom of Ankh.

There is a rule, Vimes knows. That when there falls a king the next thing men will say is Long Live the King.

But there is another rule, Vetinari knows, and Carrot knows, and Vimes too, and all the kings and queens know. That when you try to pull a weed up by its roots, inevitably you will always miss one. And somewhere, far away from your eye, it will sprout. And it will grow. And it will say, I have merely done what those before me have done.


End file.
